Behind Closed Doors
by hollyhobbit101
Summary: Of everything at No. 4 Privet Drive, the cupboard under the stairs was the strangest of all


**A/N: For the Houses Competition. Hope you guys enjoy!**

 **House: Ravenclaw**

 **Category: Themed**

 **Prompt: 'There was always something not quite right about the door'**

 **Word count: 2083**

* * *

There was always something not quite right about the door. More specifically, there was always something not quite right about whatever was behind the door, but almost no one knew what. It seemed to draw passers-by in, piquing their curiosity. To the average person's eye, it was just ordinary, exactly like a cupboard door one might expect to find in any old house, in any old neighbourhood. But there was something about this one that made people want to open it and discover what was inside. Of course, no one ever would, because it just wasn't the done thing, to go snooping around someone else's house without their permission. And yet, the temptation still remained.

There was nothing particularly special about the door at first glance. Four feet tall, solid wood, a plain white coat of paint, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, it was the sort of door that, at any other house, in any other street, in any other town, you would just walk past without a second glance. But not this door. Not at Number 4, Privet Drive.

If one were to take a closer look at the door, certain… abnormalities would begin to strike the observer. For example, the light inside the cupboard was almost always on, which must be hell on the electrics bill. A muted rim of yellow filled the gaps between the door and the wall, showing the dull lighting on the inside. Of course, the light was always switched off at night time, however, no one knew who did it. Perhaps it was automatic; there were all sorts of fancy gadgets around these days.

Once, a visitor to the Dursley household had attempted to open the door in order to put her coat inside, only to be stopped seconds later by Vernon. Petunia had watched, terrified, from the kitchen, trying (and failing) to hide her nervousness. Vernon had chuckled far too loudly to be considered normal and grasped the knob, twisting it and shaking the door more times than necessary.

"Ruddy door," he had explained, smiling apologetically and brushing a sweating hand over his shining forehead. "It got stuck years ago, haven't been able to open it since."

"I see," the visitor had replied, smiling politely.

And that was the end of that. The Dursleys had breathed a sigh of relief that their secret had not been uncovered, and the rest of the evening went just as they'd planned. There were no more unusual disturbances or worries about the cupboard under the stairs.

* * *

Other visitors had often been confused by the noises they heard coming from behind the closed door. A sound of far off chatter, or too much movement to be realistic for even the largest of spiders. The natural explanation would, of course, have been rats or other vermin, but the Dursleys were not the type of people who would tolerate an infestation in their otherwise pristine house. Vernon Dursley would have sooner smashed the door to pieces if it meant he could get rid of the vile beasts. But, if the door was truly stuck, surely there was no other reason for the noises. And, even if it was rats, they weren't the sort of sounds one might expect a rat to make. For example, sometimes people thought they could hear a small voice, like a child playing with their toys. Others said they heard the creak of a bed spring, or the soft turning of a page. One swore they heard a child crying coming through the grate on the door, and had immediately gone to Petunia and Vernon about it. They had looked extremely uncomfortable, but had reassured them that there was nothing they need worry about behind the door.

"Only cobwebs and dusty old relics in there!" Vernon had chortled. Petunia had pursed her lips, but smiled at her guest anyway, nodding along with her husband.

The visitor had left the house that night feeling distinctly unsettled, and not without a backwards glance at the innocuous cupboard door. They tried to tell themselves that they had imagined it, because, whilst Vernon and Petunia Dursley might not be the most pleasant of companions, they certainly weren't monsters. Besides, they doted on that son of theirs to an almost excessive level, so clearly they wouldn't harm a child, and they had no children other than Dudley. There'd been some rumours about them taking in a nephew whose parents had died, but he'd been nowhere to be seen. Presumably, he was just staying over at a friend's house for the night. Yes, that had to be all it was.

* * *

After the door had closed behind the last guest, the friendly smiles had dropped off the Dursley's faces and they sighed in frustration. Vernon marched over to the cupboard and yanked it open, roughly dragging out the seven year old boy by his arm.

"What did I tell you to do?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Make no noise and pretend I don't exist," Harry recited, staring resolutely at the floor.

"And what didn't you do?" Vernon growled, tightening his grip.

"I- I-" Harry stammered fearfully.

"I'll tell you what you did. You made a noise. I don't care how quiet you think you were being, because someone heard you. And do you know what happens when people hear you, hmm? They start asking questions. Now, we don't want that, do we?"

Harry shook his head wordlessly, still not meeting his uncle's eyes.

"Right you are!" Vernon said, a bit too cheerfully. "So, next time, what are you going to do?"

"Make no noise and pretend I don't exist." Harry almost whispered the words, afraid he might be punished for his actions.

Vernon simply hummed and stood up straight, releasing Harry's arm. He grunted and pointed towards the kitchen. "There might be some leftover food on the table. Eat quickly, and then I want you out of my sight. You'll be staying in there all day tomorrow."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said meekly, hurrying to do what he was told. He hadn't meant to make so much noise, but he'd been upset at the way some of the boys at school had been picking on him, and he hadn't been able to contain his tears. He wished he was able to talk to someone about it, but Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wouldn't care; they'd say he deserved it. He was all alone in the world, and that realisation made Harry more upset and lonely than he'd ever thought possible.

* * *

For a few weeks, everything stayed as it always was in the Dursley household. No one came knocking at the door to investigate why their cupboard door was making mysterious crying noises, and no one asked any more questions. Dudley took any opportunity to make fun of Harry, Vernon and Petunia mostly ignored his existence, and Harry tried to stay out of everyone's way. It was business as usual in Number 4 Privet Drive.

Of course, something will always come along that completely alters the daily routine, and for the Dursleys that came in the shape of Vernon's boss. He had asked Vernon to host a small dinner to discuss business opportunities for the new year. Having no other option, Vernon had accepted, and so a date was quickly set for a week's time.

* * *

On the day of the dinner, Vernon interrupted Harry's chores to call him into the living room. Harry stood nervously in front of his uncle, twisting his hands together anxiously.

"Tonight, Harry, I don't want anything to go wrong. Do you know why that is?"

"Th- The dinner, Uncle Vernon," Harry responded, his voice trembling.

"Quite right. Which means that you…" Vernon trailed off expectantly.

"Will stay out of sight and won't make any noises to disturb you," Harry said dutifully.

"See that you don't," Vernon warned, going back to his paper. "Fetch me those biscuits will you?"

* * *

The night was going smoothly enough, and talks were going well. Privately, Vernon thought he might be in the running for a promotion, considering only higher ranking employees were at the dinner, but he kept that to himself, not wanting to jeopardise his chances. He had ensured that they had stocked up on enough wine and brandy to last the evening, and everyone seemed pleased with Petunia's cooking. Best of all, he had heard no noise from down the hall, and no one had enquired about the door. They had glanced suspiciously at it in their usual manner, but nothing had come of it, allowing Vernon to let out a breath of relief.

"Excuse me, Vernon, but would it be possible to use your toilet?" his boss's wife, Karen, asked politely.

Vernon nodded and gestured down the hall. "Up the stairs at the end of the hall," he directed.

She nodded her thanks and left the room. As she stepped out into the hall, she heard a small shuffling noise and watched in shock as the door under the stairs began to slowly open. A boy with dark hair crawled quietly out, seeming careful not to make any noise, and stood up, glancing round. His eyes fell on her and she had to stifle a shriek as owlish green eyes stared at her in fright. She didn't know this boy, nor why he had been in the cupboard, but she thought this explained why she had felt so strange walking past it earlier. It had been like she was being watched - which, apparently, she was. She pursed her lips and strode forwards gripping the boy's shoulders before he could hide away again.

"Why were you in there, young man?" she asked. The boy just stared at her, shaking his head furiously. She sighed and spun on her heel, herding the boy along in front of her. "Vernon had better explain this nonsense," she huffed, barging back into the dining room.

Everyone glanced up at her sudden reappearance, Vernon's face turning purple at the sight of the child.

"What- What is the meaning of this?" he spluttered, rising from his seat, face turning an unpleasant shade of puce.

"That is exactly what I'd like to know," she said. "I found this boy crawling out of that cupboard under your stairs; what was he doing there, I wonder?"

Vernon appeared to be trembling slightly with anger, and a vein had begun to throb in his temple. "That is my nephew," he said, attempting to keep his voice level. "He's a troubled boy, barely speaks to anyone, mostly keeps to himself. He seems to enjoy playing in the cupboard, no idea why. Simple things please simple minds, eh?"

Karen hummed and looked down at Harry. "Is that right, young man?" she asked.

Harry didn't answer and instead looked down at his feet. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, but mostly he just wanted to hide himself back in his cupboard and never come out again. His aunt and uncle would no doubt punish him for this, and he began to quiver with fear at what they might do. He needed this woman to take her hands from his shoulders, he needed to get away, he needed to _escape, escape, escape-_

A glass flew from the table and smashed into the opposite wall, people yelling as they ducked to avoid the glass shards. Once the panic had settled, people stared in shock at the shattered glass. Vernon's face had gone beyond purple, and was now turning a dangerous shade of blue as he glared venomously at Harry.

"Back to play, boy," he ordered, grinding his teeth together so hard it was a marvel they didn't crack. Harry turned and walked back to the cupboard, locking the door behind him. He knelt on the dusty floor, buried his head in his hands, and cried.

* * *

"I think, Vernon," his boss said. "We will be leaving now."

"I- I do apologise for my nephew, troubled, as I said, very troubled," Vernon stammered, desperately trying to save his evening.

His boss ignored him. "Goodnight, Vernon," he said, then strode out, followed by his wife and the other attendees. As the passed the cupboard door, they all glanced at it and hesitated for a second, unsure of what to do. Eventually, they all uneasily passed by, pretending that they hadn't heard the soft sobs coming through the cracks. There was always something not quite right about the door. Now, at least, they knew what.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope that was okay. Please leave a review if you have a moment! Bye!**


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